


You're Not Alone

by PunkTsuki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Falling In Love, Ficlet, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Running Away, Tumblr Prompt, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 14:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13215588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkTsuki/pseuds/PunkTsuki
Summary: It wasn’t the first time Yuri Plisetsky ran away.





	You're Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as a tumblr writing prompt @ PunkTsuki
> 
> The prompt was: "You're not alone" 
> 
> Just a small content warning for angst and implied homophobia. 
> 
> Notes on language: 
> 
> “Не в моем доме…Нет моего внука” = “Not in my house…Not my grandson” in Russian.
> 
> “Мен сені жақсы көремін,” = “I love you” in Kazakh.
> 
> “я люблю тебя,” = “I love you” In Russian.
> 
> “Ты не один,” = “You’re not alone” in Russian.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

It wasn’t the first time Yuri Plisetsky ran away. It wasn’t the first time he had an argument with his Grandpa and it certainly would not be the last. It wasn’t the first time that he had packed his shit, sneaking a bottle of Russian Standard vodka from the “off limits” liquor cabinet and slammed the front door with gusto. He needed to make his protesting exit known. 

 

It was the first time though, that he had heard his Grandpa’s roaring voice, yelling from behind the wooden door: “Good, leave! Don’t you come back, Yuratchka!” 

 

Yuri’s breath got caught in his throat as he stood on their front porch, a lump forming, threatening to cut off access to air completely. He felt his chest begin to tighten, his heart break and drop into the pit of his stomach. The familiar and detested stinging pricks of salt water threatened to form tears and spill over onto his cheeks.

 

When a single tear rolled down his cheek, it burned in contrast to the bite of harsh, St. Petersburg air; causing a rushed intake of breath, stuttering in his chest and the cold burned his lungs. 

 

Heartbreak was something Yuri Plisetsky was accustomed to, though. 

 

So was being alone. 

 

With shaky knees and shaky intakes of breath, Yuri wiped his face dry with the sleeve of his hoodie and willed himself forward. He trudged out of the front gate, not bothering to close it behind him - Grandpa always hated when he did that -  and started down the street; walking away from what used to be his home. 

 

Yuri wasn’t sure where he was going. He just needed to walk, needed to get away. 

 

He did have a plan, he had a feeling this would happen, of course he fucking did. He didn’t realise though, that actually following the plan may be one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.

 

_ “Не в моем доме...Нет моего внука”  _ He could hear his Grandpa’s voice, his cold anger over and over even after he left. He never wanted to hear those words again. 

 

If he never went back, maybe he wouldn’t. 

He found himself in a park. It was familiar, but desolate. He sighed, shrugging the bag on his shoulder back into a secure spot before he walked over to a park bench. The ice outside in winter always made Yuri feel alone. It made everything look so empty. So different to the way the ice on the rink felt. He wasn’t sure what the difference was. With a gloved hand, he wiped the surface of the bench, pushing the blanketed ice onto the muddy ground. He took a seat, immediately feeling the cold of the wooden slats seep in through his jeans and bite his skin. 

 

He sighed through chattering teeth and dug through his bag, pulling the bottle of vodka out and taking a mouthful. Yuri was never sure how such a pure, clear liquid could burn but it burned good, sliding down his esophagus and warming his belly. 

 

The tears started again, creating streams that divided the constellation of light freckles on Yuri’s cheeks.

  
  
  
  


The sun was setting now. The tears were drying, leaving traces of salt and the skin on his cheeks feeling just as tight as his chest. A quarter of the bottle was now gone and Yuri wasn’t sure that he could feel his tongue...or his legs. It took him a moment to register that his phone was vibrating in his pocket before he fumbled to fish it out and then answer the apparent call. 

 

“Yura?” A deep, gentle voice came drifting through the phone and into his ear. Some of the tightness in his chest disintegrated immediately, recognising the voice on the other end. 

 

“Otabek, Beka,” Yuri tried to speak but his name came out as more of a whimper. His boyfriend brought him both strength and weakness and Yuri wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to that. 

 

“Yura, are you alright? What happened, what did he say?” Concern laced Otabek’s tone. “Did you do it? Tell him, I mean?” 

 

“Sure, I fucking told him. Not like he didn’t already know,” Yuri’s voice shook. 

 

“I know, baby, I know. How’d he take it?” How was he so calm? So soft? 

 

“How did  _ your _ parents take it?” Yuri didn’t mean to snap. Not with Otabek, he never meant to with Otabek. Sometimes it happened anyway. “I’m sorry, Beka, I-” 

 

“It’s okay, Yura. They…” Otabek’s voice was still soft, patient. “I uh. I gotta get out of here, Yura.” 

 

“Yeah. G-Grandpa told me n-not to come back. I d-don’t know what to do. I’m alone.” 

 

“Yura, where are you?” Concern piqued. 

 

“I-In the p-park I-” The cold was breaking down the warm barrier the alcohol had temporarily provided. 

 

“You’re not alone,” Otabek whispered. “You’re never alone, Yura. I’m in this too. You know we had a plan if our families didn’t like us together. We knew their attitudes going into this, I’m with you, okay?” 

 

“I’m sorry, Beka. Your family...they didn’t know about you like my Grandpa already knew, you don’t have to do this,” Yuri’s voice cracked as a pathetic sob ripped through him. 

 

“Yura, I am with you. All I need is you and if that means they throw me out, so be it. I’m never leaving you alone, you’re not alone.” 

 

“Okay,” was all Yuri could muster, his voice sounding smaller than he ever wanted it to. “What do I do, Otabek? The fact of the matter is that I am alone, tonight at least. What the fuck am I meant to do?” 

 

“You’re meeting me in Moscow in the morning, yes?”

 

“Y-Yes but I. I’m scared, Beka. I can’t stay in the park.” He would though, if it meant not going home. 

 

“Call Viktor. I know he annoys you but you know he’s supportive. He and Yuuri would gladly give you their couch, you know this. I’ll call them if you want. Just for tonight, love and then you’re mine to look after. Okay?”

 

“O-Okay,” Yuri fought off the tears. 

 

“I’ll see you in Moscow? Just like we planned?” Otabek asked, as to make sure Yuri would go through with getting on his flight. 

 

“I’ll see you in Moscow, Beka.”

 

“We’ll be together soon, my Yura. You’re not alone,” He reiterated. Yuri was thankful. Sometimes, he needed to be reminded. “ Мен сені жақсы көремін,” Otabek almost whispered in Kazakh. Yuri knew what it meant, he’d heard it a thousand times.  

 

“я люблю тебя,” Yuri replied in his own native tongue. 

 

“Ты не один,” Otabek said in Russian, hoping that if these words were repeated; Yuri might start to believe them. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
